


It Happens in a Blink

by DemonicHope



Series: The Life of an Archer and a Speedster. [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, First Time, Getting Together, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Oral Sex, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Pietro Maximoff is a little shit, Top Clint Barton, Virgin Pietro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicHope/pseuds/DemonicHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one sits in Pietro's chair unless they want to face the speedster's wrath. So how is it that Pietro finds himself in Clint's bed, after the archer sits in his chair?</p>
<p>Minor Warning in Notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happens in a Blink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Child_of_demon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_of_demon/gifts).



> This is my first published fic in awhile. I wrote this for my amazing beta Child of Demon's birthday, seeing as she dragged me kicking and screaming into this fandom, so she is rewarded with her OTP
> 
> The title is taken from Blink by Revive, which should be Hawksilver's song. 
> 
> WARNING:  
> Pietro is a virgin who takes his knowledge of sex from porn. Clearly not smart. He's going to try and deep throat Clint, only to choke, if this is triggering, take warning. Clint does not cause this, and he instantly stops the oral, and checks on Pietro, but it does happen. 
> 
> This fic has a sequel in progress.

“I am not a child! You cannot treat me like one! I am a twenty-four year old adult!”  Pietro Maximoff shouted, barreling through the door and into Steve Roger’s bedroom, and planting himself firmly in the doorway 

 

Steve was perched in the lap of one Bucky Barnes, lips swollen and red, his Captain America suit half hanging off one shoulder, revealing a mess of hickies. The blonde blinked slowly, absently swatting at as Bucky, who hadn’t stopped his efforts to suck another one on the super soldier's collarbone. 

 

“Pietro I’m a little busy. Can we do this...Or we could do it now.” He amended, watching Pietro flop himself down on the foot of the bed, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. 

 

“Eight times! Since I have  been out of the hospital. Eight times the Avengers have been called to fight and I have been left behind. First,  I thought you wanted to let me recover, but  it is six months. I am healed! Tonight you send Wanda out and made me stay home, and she could have been killed! If Thor had not arrived, she would have been. Why must I sit home and worry while you fight?” Pietro’s head dropped, his anger dissipating as he forced himself to say the words. “Am I not an Avenger? Did you just want Wanda, not me?” He whispered, forcing the stupid insecurity out. 

 

Steve sighed. “No Pietro. You’re an Avenger, and we wanted you just as much as your sister. It’s just...” 

 

Bucky lifted his head, making a satisfied noise as he examined the hickey he’d left on Steve’s neck. “Why don’t you go ask your sister why you aren’t being sent out?” 

 

Pietro was on his feet, leaving the room in the familiar blur of blue and silver and zipping into the living room. He knew Wanda was out still, she’d dragged Thor to go see some silly movie, which meant he couldn’t chew her out. Interrupting Thor and Wanda’s date night meant his sister ‘accidentally’ spilling embarrassing stories about him. Like the vacuum cleaner incident. He’d been a curious child. It wasn’t his fault no one had told his five year old self that certain bits of male anatomy weren’t suppose to go in there. He’d find a distraction until she returned, or else suffer another month of Tony thinking he was cute and putting female faces on a Dust Buster.

 

The new Avenger’s faculty was awful, and Pietro was hoping Tony and Steve got over whatever little spat they were having this week so they could move back to the Tower. Unlike the tower, where they each had their own floors, complete with master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, living room, and kitchen, plus a communal floor, the Faculty only had one room for each Avenger, and a  shared living room, kitchen, and dining room. They even had to share bathrooms. Pietro’s hair wasn't getting the proper level of pampering, having to fend off both Thor and his sister for the use of their bathroom mirror. He’d been contemplating shaving both their heads in their sleep.

 

Unable to confront his sister, and not desiring to go back to his room, Pietro slid to a stop in the living room, deciding to find a movie to watch, only to find it already occupied by Hawkeye, who was watching that silly show of his. Dogpolice or something. 

 

That was fine, Pietro was master at stealing the remote from the archer. But there was a problem in the sandy blonde’s choice in seat. 

 

A beautiful blue recliner with silver piping that was big enough for his long legs, and just squishy enough he could nap in it for hours, but firm enough that he didn’t feel like he was sinking. It even had “Quicksilver” in loopy cursive across the back. It was his chair. Custom made. Pietro had spent his first paycheck as an Avenger on it. It was his. 

 

And Clint Barton’s ass was sitting in it. 

 

“What are you doing?” Pietro demanded, blocking the TV with his body. 

 

“It’s called watching TV. Move kid.” Clint waved at him to move, twisting his body to try and see around the speedster, and his boots touched the arm. 

 

“That chair is mine” 

 

Clint raised an eyebrow, before pointing at the Avengers couch, which was smoking lightly “Thor zapped the couch.”

 

“I do not care. It is mine.” Pietro crossed his arms, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. 

 

“Move. Sergeant Whisker is about to...”

 

“No. That is my chair. Mine.” 

 

“Out of all the words in the english language to master, you’ve picked ‘mine’, and ‘You didn’t see that coming?’. Seriously kid?”

 

“I am not a kid. Now give the chair.” 

 

“No. I was here first.”

 

“Sit elsewhere.” Pietro waved his arms around the Avengers living room, not caring that they were down to his precious chair and the smoldering couch. He wasn’t the one that destroyed the other chairs. It was Sam’s idea for the Avengers to play Monopoly, resulting in Bruce Hulking out and wrestling Bucky over some hotel thing. Pietro didn’t know all the details. He’d fallen asleep in the middle of the game, happily staining Clint’s shoulder with drool. He’d woken up tucked into his bed, though his wallet was empty of cash the next morning, and his face had been stained with marker for two days afterward. Though he knew the marker wasn’t Clint’s retaliation. Clint’s handwriting looked like a drunk chicken had scratched it. Only Steve had such neat handwriting, nearing levels of calligraphy. Bucky was a horrible influence on their leader. 

 

“Where?”

 

“I do not know, just not my chair.” 

 

Clint studied him for a long moment, before snorting. “Nah. My seat now.”

 

“No mine!” Pietro stomped forward, doing his best to make the most noise possible with his bare feet. The archer only swatted at him when Pietro tried to grab his arm and physically remove him from his chair. 

 

“Fine!” Pietro shouted, and with a burst of speed, he spun, landing right in Clint’s lap, and snatched up the remote. “We both sit.” He huffed, as he started rapidly switching the channels, his fingers a blur, nose wrinkling when he saw nothing on interest. He shifted, squirming to find a better spot, Clint had a knife sheathed on his thigh and it was digging into his hip. He wiggled around until he was sideways, back pressed to Clint’s shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the chair. 

 

Clint made a choked sound as Pietro shifted again to throw his legs over the other side of the chair.  He glanced over, a small smirk twisting his lips when he saw the start of a flush. Curious, he dug his rear just a little more into Clint’s crotch, listening to the bitten off gasp. Pietro decided to forget watching TV, he’d found his entertainment for the night. Putting Clint’s show back on, he stretched out, bopping Clint on the nose with his hand. 

 

“I am bored.” Pietro whined, releasing just a touch of the iron grip he had around his powers, feeling his skin began to vibrate with the urge to run.

 

The archer cleared his throat, “I...uhh, Tasha. I promised Natasha I’d make those dark chocolate brownies for her. You can have your chair back.”

 

“No. I am comfortable. Stay.” To prove his point he stretched out farther, letting his knee fall onto Clint’s crotch, unable  to help the smirk that danced upon his lips when he felt the hardness. He ducked his head to hide it, but it didn’t escape Hawkeye. 

 

“You little bastard. You know exactly what you are doing.” Clint snarled, and the speedster was out of his lap, ready to disappear into the safety of Sam’s room, knowing Falcon would protect him. Only to yelp as a strong arm caught his waist, yanking him back down, and he was spun around to face Clint. 

 

“What was that?”

 

“не говорю по английски” I no speak English.   Pietro rattled off in rapid fire Russian. Clint didn’t speak Russian did he? 

 

The archer raised one very unimpressed eyebrow. “Am I supposed to understand that?”

 

Pietro wiggled under the gaze, trying to drop his eyes, but Clint used his free hand to catch the younger man’s jaw, calloused  fingers tilting his chin up so Pietro was forced to met his pale eyes. 

 

“Pietro? How did that go from us bickering over your chair, to you trying to get me hard?”

 

“So you say it is my chair?” 

 

“Kid, stop changing the subject. And for the record, I never said it wasn’t your chair, your fucking name is written on it. I said that I wasn’t getting up. Now, tell me why you were practically grinding on me.”

 

“Was only having fun.” 

 

“Like you were only having fun last week when you stole my clothes when I was showering? Or when you pushed me into the pool? Or when you...”

 

“I get it. You are mad at me.” Pietro deflated a bit, renewing his attempts to get free, but Clint’s arms were like vices. 

 

“No, this is the first time I’ve gotten you to sit still since you got out of the hospital kid. You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“This is kidnapping right? I should scream for help. I am held against my will.” Pietro complained, kicking Clint’s leg with his foot, though his barefoot didn’t even hit with enough force to leave a mark. 

 

“No. We are having a conversation.” Clint’s thumb brushed his cheek as he shifted his hold on Pietro’s chin. “Do you hate me or something?”

 

“What? No! Stupid old man! I was ready to die for you, yet you think...I would never hate you. You are not Stark. He is only Avenger I ever hated.” Pietro knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t help it. He saw it on Clint’s face, saw it in the flicker of his eyes. He believed his own words. He thought Pietro could hate him! He slung his arms around the archer’s shoulders, pushing his head under Clint’s chin, and burrowing himself into the muscled chest. “Stupid. I know you are old Clint, but you forget me nearly dying for you? I took eight bullets for you. You do not do that for someone you hate.”

 

The blonde hummed, his arms still restrictive around Pietro, but not in a bad way, as the Sokovian boy settled himself further into his lap. 

 

“When do you plan on telling me why you did that? Jumped between me and the bullets.”

 

Pietro shrugged, pressing his ear against Clint’s chest and listening to the steady thud of his beating heart. He thought that was answer enough. 

 

“Kid for someone who likes the sound of their own voice as much as you do, you really suck at talking.”

 

“What do we talk about? I have been clear, you are not interested. Simple.” Really, why did he have to come out and say it?

 

“Clear about what? That you’re a little shit? I got that memo the day I met you. Now tell me what you mean, or I swear I’ll call Natasha to give you her glare of doom until you are spilling your guts.” 

 

“It is nothing. Now let me go. I will go find my sister.” 

 

Clint ignored him, his blue eyes, normally so pale seemed darker in the awful lighting of the Avengers Faculty. “No, I don't think you're doing it to be shit. Well you are, but not to be asshole.” 

 

Pietro’s squirmed under the gaze, wanting to look away, to hide away, but Clint’s grip on his chin had returned, and all he could do was peek up at Clint through his eyelashes, and hope the older man would get bored and leave him alone. 

 

“Natasha and I talk about this. Your sister too. She’s been hinting.”

 

Pietro reached into that corner of his mind, that soothed with gentle love and calming energy to his turbulent mess of emotion and deep set love twisted through with fear. He jabbed at it mentally, waiting for one breath before he felt his sister’s voice in his head, as sure as his own mental voice. 

 

“What brother?” She asked, her thought line tinged with annoyance. He knew she’d have her retribution at a later time, the echo of a romantic comedy, and the phantom weight of Thor’s arm around her shoulders transferred through her powers. She was still on her date, and he would pay for this, but he didn't’ care. 

 

He couldn’t speak to her telepathically like she could with him, but she could feel his thoughts and read the words he thought, and he let his own anger and betrayal seep into the bond. Along with the firm image of Clint’s face. 

 

“What has Clint done now to upset you brother? Did he not fawn over your ass in your new jeans? Or did he not notice you actually shaved, so you don’t look like you have a squirrel glued to your face? Or...”

 

Pietro jabbed at her mind, sending her the image of his pouting face.

 

“Am I supposed to find that cute or horrifying?” 

 

A sharp picture of a naked Fury was sent her way in retaliation, only to be batted aside lazily and Pietro squeaked, both mentally and outloud, when his mind was flooded by naked Clint. He’d only gotten a glimpse of the archer’s rear when he’d sprinted by, but Wanda had apparently gotten a full-frontal, and he could feel his face heating up. His mind started to wander, and he felt his sister recoil. 

 

“You are so disgusting.” She growled, before withdrawing from his mind, throwing up brick walls around herself, but reluctant to withdraw completely. 

 

“What are you thinking that has you so pink?” Clint asked, pulling Pietro out of his head as that rough thumb brushed over the patches of red on his cheeks.

 

“Uh...”

 

Clint cocked his head to the side, hand once more cupping Pietro’s cheek. “Does it have anything to do with me kissing you?”

 

“Uh...no?”

 

The archer had a glint of mischief to his eyes as his thumb began to drift, touching the corner of Pietro’s lips. “So you don’t want me to do this?” Clint whispered, leaning forward, gently slotting their mouths together, and Pietro was pretty sure his brain was short-circuiting. 

 

Clint was kissing him! Pietro eagerly responded, one hand fisting in Clint’s shirt, the other gripping strands of sandy hair. Clint laughed against his lips as Pietro sloppily returned it.  

 

It was the archer who broke away first, smirking as the speedster whined, trying to dig his fingers into Clint’s shoulders. 

 

“More!” He damned, tugging at Clint’s hair, and hearing the archer hiss. Curious, he did it again, only to have his nose flicked by the archer. 

 

“Pietro.” Clint growled, eyes blown wide, but the younger man darted in for another kiss, stopping any protest. Clint nipped his lower lip, but Pietro ducked away, grinning, as Clint chased him with lips. 

 

“Да, мой лучник?”  Yes, my archer?

 

Clint hummed low in his throat. “So all the jokes, that was your way of flirting? Because really kid.”

 

“My flirting is excellent. You are thick headed. And old.”

 

“Old hmm? I bet out can outlast you kid. It’s called experience.”

 

“I shall get you water to take the harder pills.” Pietro teased, scrunching his nose as Clint kissed his forehead. 

 

“Watch it kid.”

 

“Or what?” Pietro taunted, only to squeak as he was lifted by his hips, scrambling to get his arms around the older man’s neck. “Down!”

 

“Nope. Gonna have to prove it to you.”

 

“What do you prove?” Pietro questioned, wrapping his long legs around Clint’s waist, even if he was definitely going to argue with Clint later for carrying him.

 

 

“That I don’t need any little blue pills.”

Heat and also worry twisted in Pietro’s belly, as Clint carried him towards the older man’s room. Would he find out? Would he care? What if he laughed in his face? What if he told the others? Wanda said it was nothing to be ashamed off, but what did she know? She wasn’t a virgin.

Obviously sensing the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Clint paused. “You do want to do this right? I’m fine with taking it slow. I mean I don’t do one night stands, so I...yeah, figured this would be a relationship thing. You do want that right? I’m not totally misreading the situation.”

“No! No! I want to! Now! Yes!”

Clint paused, searching his face, and Pietro knew he’d find the truth. He wanted this. Wanted Clint. He was nervous, but he would not back out. It was sex. How hard could it be? He’d seen porn, Tony left his collection on the public servers and Pietro was a curious individual.Tony’s taste was varied, allowing Pietro access to plenty of gay porn, since women did nothing for him. 

The blonde studied him for a few seconds longer, before nodding, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before carrying him into the archer’s bedroom. Pietro had a moment to look around before he was dropped on the dark purple blanket that covered Clint’s bed, bouncing slightly. Clint was already locking the door, before pulling his cellphone out of his jeans and typing out a quick text. He turned the phone to let Pietro see the screen, the younger man unsurprised to find it addressed to Natasha. 

“If anyone tries to get in my room, kill them.” 

“Tony has the bad habit of picking locks. And if it's okay with you, I’m going to be the only one who sees you naked from now on.” Clint explained as he sent the text off. “He did it to Natasha and Sam when they first got together. And he’s done it to Steve and Bucky a few times.” 

“Charming old man. Is that how you are asking me to be your boyfriend?” Pietro leaned back on his elbows, spreading his legs slightly in a way he hoped looked effortlessly sexy. 

“Nah kid. I asked you to be my boyfriend when I carried you into here. I’m not Tony. I don’t sleep with people I don’t have feelings for. Natasha thinks I’m demisexual like Steve.” Clint explained, turning his phone off and tossing it onto the nightstand. “Now come here kid. We aren’t doing this before we talk it out.” 

Pietro made a soft noise before sitting up, reaching out for Clint, who instantly moved into his arms, letting Pietro nuzzle into his chest as Clint kissed the top of his head 

“I want that...To be yours.” He admitted softly, mumbling into the solid chest. 

“How long? How long have you wanted me?” Clint asked, kissing his forehead. “Because I wanted you the second I saw you. Well I wanted to kill you, then bring you back and fuck you. Not sure when that turned into fuck you and then cuddle you to death, but ehh, personal growth and all that shit.”

Piero felt his cheeks color at the nearly obscene way the word fuck rolled off of Clint’s lips, the casual use doing nothing to diminish its heat. “I do not know. I was...how you say? Turned on?” He cocked his head to the side, waiting for Clint’s nod. “The bow. It’s very...sexy. I got hot when you used it. Then the battle. You protect Wanda and me. You are not afraid either. So many fear us, especially Wanda. I..I can not have feelings for someone who fears her. She is my other half. My twin. You understand. You are the same.”

The older man frowned, “I’m not a twin.”

“No. But you do understand. How it feels to have someone else a part of you. To be only one half. Not romantically, but...you feel as you are broken without them.” Pietro frowned, struggling to convey what he meant into words, much less words in a tongue that wasn’t his native one. “I do not know the English name for it. But...two halves. Not just....” He waved his hands around the bed. “Not a sex way, but a...I do not know.” He admitted, angrily plucking at a stray thread on his jeans, trying to curb the frustration that his difficulties with words always brought on. Wanda was so much better with words, both in general and in English. She’d know how to explain to Clint the reason it meant so much that he was the same. 

“Hey, don’t get mad gorgeous.” Clint sat beside him, patting his lap. “I think I understand what you mean. Platonic soulmates. It means you share a soul, but in a friend way, not like lovers. You’re talking about Natasha and me right?” 

Pietro nodded, perking up as Clint gave him the name. “Yes! Your other half, even if you do not want them in a boyfriend way. Natasha and you! You understand. I can love others, but no one else means as much. Wanda...she tried to date...but the men, they’d get jealous. Not understand how she would always chose me, not them. They wanted her to love only them, but we are one. They would fight, and they would leave, and never come back. .

“So you want to be with me, because you can’t love anyone more than Wanda, just like I can’t love anyone more than Natasha. Wow kid, I’m honored.” Clint his voice dripping sarcasm as he  ran a hand through his short hair.

“No! I say it wrong” He scrambled into Clint’s lap, grabbing for a handful of his shirt, afraid he’d leave before he could explain. He reached for the words, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment when once more they escaped him. 

“Hey, don’t get mad at yourself baby.” Clint soothed, more sweet kisses being pressed to his forehead between words. “I think I understand. At first you found me hot, which obviously. I’m sexy. But then you realized that unlike the guys Wanda had dated, I’d never get mad at you for loving Wanda more than me, because I’m the same with Natasha, and always will be. And it made you....what? Curious about me?”

“Yes! That is it.” Pietro sighed in relief. “I was curious. And that turned to wanting you. Now can we stop the talking, and have fun?”

Clint laughed softly at the whine. “Sorry kid. We needed to have a grownup talk to remind me that you are in fact an adult, and I am not a dirty old man defiling some innocent maiden.”

“You are old. But not dirty. And I am not  innocent.” Pietro kissed him before he could think about Clint calling him innocent.

The archer was eager, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, and the speedster opened his mouth. This was kissing. He knew kissing. He’d been kissed four times previously. He was practically an expert.  He felt the chuckle slide from Clint, the vibration of it in his chest, as Clint’s tongue traced his lips before dipping inside before withdrawing, teasing him. At least until Pietro found a handful of hair, tugging lightly, and Clint began to explore his mouth more seriously.  They broke apart for breath, but Clint’s lips only moved to kiss at his cheeks, pressing a lazy trail down his jaw before settling on a spot just beneath his chin. Only then did Clint break contact with his skin, lifting his head to meet Pietro’s eyes. The speedster whined at the loss of contact, but Clint only shushed him gently. 

“We need to talk about limits kid. Is there anything you don’t like? Any triggers? I need to know baby, and if I don’t think you're being honest with me, this is done. I’m going to sleep in Natasha’s room and I’m not touching you until I’m sure I won’t accidentally hurt you.” 

The virgin frowned. Did he have any limits? How was he supposed to know if he had done nothing? But he knew Clint would stay true to his word. So he thought, running over the things he’d seen in porn, separating the wounds that left him hot from the ones that made his stomach clench unpleasantly. “No hitting. Too much like punishment with Hydra. That okay?”

“Of course its okay. We have to discuss triggers sweetheart. With our backgrounds it only makes sense. We don’t touch each others boundaries. And for the record, I don’t care if it's your biggest kink. I don’t hit or hurt my lovers. Anything else?

“Uh... do not stop me from moving? My running is my safety. Take that away and I panic.”

“Can I pin your wrist with my hands?”

“I think so.” He rolled the idea over in his mind, realizing why Clint was so worried over this. He knew that if he felt trapped, he’d lash out. And nothing would kill the mood like him having a panic attack. “I not sure about others.”

“If you don’t like something, just tell me and I’ll stop okay baby? Even if you just want me to slow down, you have to tell me. I’m not going to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Yours?” Pietro asked. 

The archer absently began to toy with a strand of silver hair. “Uh, bondage. I’m fine with being pinned by my lover, but I can’t be tied up. I get...violent. And umm, sorta a weird one. But I can’t be on my knees. I can give blowjobs just fine lying on the bed. And if you want to be on your knees, I can deal with it, but it really kills the mood for me.”

“I can do that.”  The speedster agreed, knowing without asking that this was about the whole Loki situation Tony had told him about. 

“Really Pietro, be careful with that. I was playing with Nat and she tried to shove me to my knees and I broke her wrist. Just be careful. Then the kinkier stuff. God I’m so vanilla in bed. No pee, no blood, no strangulation. Got it?”

Pietro nodded, kissing Clint’s cheek. “Yes. I will not do those. I do not think, they are my kink. But you like your hair pulled, yes?”

“Hell yes. Don’t rip it out, but some tugging is hot as hell. I just love it messed with. Can I play with your hair?”

The younger man nodded, going so far as to shove his head in Clint’s face, snickering as the archer spit out a mouthful of silver locks 

“Such a brat.” He grumbled, but he was smiling. “Can I mark you? I like to bite. 

Pietro opened his mouth, lazily nipping Clint’s jaw, even as he felt his cheeks flush. “ Yes. I like that. People seeing I am yours.”

“Good because I’m possessive. Now what do you like gorgeous?”

Once again Pietro was forced to draw on his porn experience, except for one detail. “Names. Sweet ones. I want to bite too. You are mine too.”

“I swear you were meant for me beautiful.” The archer was back to kissing him, gentle pecks to his neck , but his hands were sliding down. “Anything else?”

He shook his head, feeling  touch of the fear melt away. Clint was so gentle, so careful, he’d be fine. 

Clint kissed his lips one more time, before gently stripping him of his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder, and Pietro felt the archer’s heavy gaze along his body. He was muscled yes, but nothing like Thor or Steve, but Clint began to kiss along his chest, and he decided his body must be adequate.  

He gasped, arching up as Clint’s tongue flicked over his nipple, before taking the little bud into his mouth, rolling it between his lips, before suckling gently. 

“More!” He demanded, already grabbing for Clint’s hair, toying with the soft strands between his fingertips as the archer chuckled around his nipple, releasing it and blowing a breath of cold air across the surface, and snickering at Pietro’s gasp. 

“Bossy little shit.” Clint grinned, as Pietro used his hold on Clint’s hair to steer him to the other nipple, mewling in pleasure as Clint began to lazily lap at it before his mouth began to wander down. Pietro though was having none of that, tugging Clint backup. 

“Shirt off! It not fair. You can touch me, but I can not you.” Pietro was panting as he tried to yank off Clint’s shirt, growling in frustration when the tight shirt wouldn’t obey his shaking hands. 

Clint blinked as his shirt was torn in two. “Okay that was hot.”

Pietro hummed in agreement, confidence growing as he used his speed and superior strength to his advantage, flipping them so he was on top, sitting across Clint’s thighs. 

“I am very sexy.” He agreed, eyes already tracing over the archer’s form, curious hands beginning to roam, poking at the multiple scars that littered Clint’s chest, before leaning forward and kissing each one better. 

“You scar.”

“Great observation kid. Want a gold star?” Clint asked, resting his hands on Pietro’s thighs. 

“I do not scar. See?” He pointed to the spots on his arms and chest the bullets had punctured when he’d been Clint’s personal shield. 

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

The younger man shook his head. “No. It is different though. Reminds me that you are fragile. Do not want to break you.”

“Kid, we need to talk about you...ahhh!” Clint’s strangled groan was well worth the taste of denim in his mouth as Pietro mouthed at the bulge in Clint’s jeans, fingers toying with the zipper. 

“This okay?” He asked, sliding down so he was lying between Clint’s legs. 

Clint looked down at him. “Are you okay?

“I know what I am doing.” Pietro swatted at the hands that were reaching for him. And he did know what he was doing. He’d seen porn, and even practiced with a banana once, until Wanda had caught him and taken away the fruit.  He unzipped Clint’s jeans, popping the button open. 

“Hey I can do you first if you want.” Clint offered, fingers starting to run through his hair. 

“I can do this!” Pietro tugged at the jeans, pleased when Clint lifted his hips to help him wiggle them down. “Chicken old man?” 

“I don’t want to pressure you Pietro. Come on baby, give me a kiss. Or you can rip my underwear off. I liked those boxers.” He complained, as Pietro studied his cock. 

Clint was only half-hard. Had he done something wrong? He was already throbbing in his own pants. It must be because he was old.

“Don’t you want to do a little more foreplay?” Clint asked, propping himself up on his elbows as Pietro hushed him. 

Deciding on his plan of attack, he gently grasped the length, shivering at the silky heat in his hand. Clint was larger than him, though nothing near the size he’d seen in the porn. He lacked the younger man’s girth, something that made Pietro quite smug. 

“Do you want to take a picture or are you just gonna keep staring at it? Because I’m not sure if I should be paranoid or what.” Clint asked, only to groan as Pietro moved to lick at the slit, wrinkling his nose as he registered the slightly salty taste. Quickly deciding it wasn’t bad, he took the head into his mouth, mindful of his teeth as he forced his head down. Gag reflexes weren’t that common. He’d googled it. One in three people lacked a gag reflex, so chances where with his talents, he did too. 

He took a third of it into his mouth, feeling tears gather in the corner of his eyes, but he forced himself to take more. He wanted to make this good for Clint, to make sure he enjoyed it. 

“Easy baby, don’t...fuck, Pietro off!” Clint shouted, doing his best to withdraw from Pietro’s mouth when the speedster started coughing, tears streaming down his face. Pietro pulled off of Clint’s dick trying to take air in, even as he gagged, resulting in another round of coughing. He felt Clint scoop him up, settling him in his lap. But he didn’t look, focusing on calming his heaving chest, as he felt his face burn like fire. 

“You okay?” Clint asked, pressing kisses to his cheeks. “Because that was your gag reflex. Also known as the reason you tell me you’re a fucking virgin to blowjobs before you go down on me.”

Pietro sniffed, focusing his eyes on the wall. “I am not a...”

“Kid, I did the same exact thing my first time. I know virgin who is trying too hard and has seen too much porn. Been there, done that got the T-shirt. And had a painful, awful, first time because of it. Don’t do that to yourself. Trust me, it’s not good.” 

“It is pathetic. I am twenty-four. I should be able to do this.” Pietro rubbed at his eyes, feeling that Clint was pretty deflated against his thigh. “I ruined it for you.”

“Well I have this weird aversion to my boyfriend dying because he choked on my dick.” Clint kissed his forehead again. “Wanna know what will get me hard again?”

“A lover who does not choke?” Pietro guessed, still not meeting Clint’s eyes. 

“Nope. Well, yes. So long as that lover is you. Just looking at you baby gets me hard. But wanna know another thing of mine?”

Pietro shrugged, wondering if he could run before Clint caught him, or if the lock on the door would slow him too much. 

“Taking care of my beautiful, smart, sexy, boyfriend, who is such a good boy for me.”

The Sokovian boy perked up at the small praise, lifting his head just a touch. “I did bad.”

“No, you were trying so hard for me. Wanted to make it good for me, didn’t you baby?” Clint asked, and Pietro felt his dick twitch just a little, once more taking interest in the proceedings. 

A slight nod was all the answer Clint got, but he latched onto it, gently pushing the speedster so he was lying back, legs on either side of Clint’s hips. The archer crawled over him as Pietro’s face grew with heat. 

“You are going to be so good for me baby, aren’t you? You're going to sound so pretty for me aren’t you beautiful?” Clint purred,  fingers dipping down to gently undo Pietro’s jeans. 

“You still want to have sex with me?” Pietro asked, lifting his hips to aid Clint’s quest to rid him of the skintight jeans. 

“If you want, baby. You're in charge of how fast or slow we go. I’m just in charge of the actual sex things.” 

“Want you. Do not want to go slow. I am Quicksilver, I like fast.” 

Clint kissed him once more. “I love you, you know that right?” He asked, resting his chin on Pietro’s chest. 

Pietro felt a stupid smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders of the archer. “I love you too, and that is not because you are about to suck my dick.” 

Clint hummed, “Oh, I am?” 

“I cannot learn without a demonstration. You train me to fight, this no different. I do best, to copy you.” Pietro gasped as Clint nipped at his neck. 

“Can’t argue with that logic.” Clint slid down his body, helping Pietro finish kicking off his jeans, before leaning across him and grabbing something out of the end table. He dropped it on Pietro’s chest and the speedster picked up the tube of lube. 

  
  


“That is up to you. I have no problem with just blow....” Clint grunted as Pietro covered his mouth with one hand. 

“Want you, old man.”

“You know, insulting me isn’t the way to get sex.”

Pietro pouted up at the archer, letting his big blue eyes, that Wanda said Clint adored, fix on the man’s face. “You do not want to be my first?”

“Fuck kid....have you been with anyone? Girls even?”

Pietro made a face, shaking his head. “I do not like girls. Have only kissed before that.” 

Clint grinned, pressing him more into the mattress, fingers toying with the band of Pietro’s boxers. “I’m going to be the first then. The first to take you apart, to have you begging for me. Make you feel so good you are whimpering for me in Russian. Do you want that baby?”

Pietro nodded, face flushed as he let Clint pull of his boxers, shivering at the cool air on his cock as Clint blew a breath across the heated flesh. 

“Arse.” Pietro complained, only to nearly swallow his own tongue as Clint licked a lazy stripe down his cock. His fingers found Clint’s hair, while the archer drew back. 

 

“Tease!” 

Clint sunk his teeth into Pietro’s thigh, snickering at the startled yelp. A soft lick soothed away the slight hurt, as Pietro swatted at him, trying to see the imprint of the older man’s teeth on his pale skin, but Clint pushed him back down. 

The nervousness settled, the wonder if this was too fast, too soon, as they found their usual playfulness. Clint poking him in the ribs when Pietro wiggled. The archer slid back down, peering up at Pietro, before gently taking the head of his cock into his mouth, but before Pietro could really register the hot, perfect heat, Clint was pulling back. 

“Pay attention. You will be tested on this at a later date.” 

Pietro pushed his head back down. “Do something or your hand will be your lover.”

Clint winked at him, before wrapping his lips around Pietro’s cock, humming in approval when Pietro’s fingers found his hair, tugging gently. Clint’s hands were on his hips, steadying him as Clint lapped at the head, eyes half-hooded as he met Pietro’s darkened eyes.

He nursed on the cock almost lazily, thumb tracing abstract shapes on Pietro’s hip bone, while the speedster squirmed beneath him. 

“Clint! More!” He complained pulling on Clint’s hair, when it became apparently the archer had no plans to do more than toy with the head of his cock. 

The sharp click of the tube of lube being flicked open caught his attention as Clint pulled back, pressing kisses to his thighs. He tensed, just a slight tightening of his muscles, but Clint was there. Sweet kissed rained down on his belly before trailing lower, a slick finger pressing against his entrance, but Clint made no move to do more than leave it there. He took Pietro’s cock back into his mouth, sucking it down as his finger toyed with the muscle, just rubbing gently, before Pietro’s attention drifted back to the fantastic feeling of Clint’s mouth around him. The archer sucked softly, never rushing, never doing more than letting Pietro whimper beneath his clever mouth. 

Pietro panted, feeling the finger still circling his hole, and all at once everything became too slow. The world was starting to slow around him, the shakiness returning to his limbs as they ached with the need to move, to run, and he nearly pushed away from Clint. But the archer slipped his finger inside of the younger boy, and like that it disappeared. Pietro took a breath, dazed by the sudden change, leaving him calm and pliant as Clint pulled off of him with a wet pop. 

“Doing so good baby. Staying nice and still for me.” Clint slid up his body, bare chest brushing across his aching length as Clint latched onto one of his nipples, nipping and worrying the bud between his teeth. Pietro buried his face in Clint’s hair, taking a shuddering breath as he rolled his hips, finding much needed friction against Clint’ chest, before slowly bearing down on the finger inside of him, gasping at the slight stretch. Clint stayed still, letting him adjust, sucking a mark on his ribs. 

“More.” He demanded, wiggling as much as he could, but Clint stopped him with a sharp bite to his neck, and he knew that he’d bear the marks from that one in the morning. He nipped right back, catching Clint’s shoulder with his teeth when the archer moved to kiss his love bite better.  He snickered when Clint yelped, looking down at the imprint of Pietro’s teeth on his shoulder.  

“Seriously, kid?”

“You said you like bit...Oh!” Pietro froze, eyes flying open when Clint slid the second finger inside of him, crooking them in one smooth movement, and Pietro saw stars. His cock throbbed against Clint’s stomach. Electricity zinged down his spine, and he arched into Clint, mouth hanging open. 

“Huh, it is possible for you to be quiet. I was starting to wonder.” The archer observed, sounding entirely too smug, but Pietro could only pant, trying to shove back on Clint’s fingers to get more of that feeling. 

“I thought we agreed you were going to be a good boy and stay still?” Clint scolded, stopping him with a firm hand on his hips. 

Pietro growled. “I want you! Now!”

“I’ve got to stretch you baby.”

“I take you now! Two fingers, more than the porn used.” Pietro panted, struggling to get the words past his swollen lips. 

“Kid, I’m taking away your porn privileges. If I shove my dick in you now, I’ll rip your tight little ass to shreds, and I’m really against that.” Clint leaned forward to kiss him, but Pietro stubbornly turned his head away. 

“So slow old man. Need a magazine. I as old as you by the...OW!” Pietro hissed at the sharp pain, blinking tears from his eyes as he stared down at Clint.  The pain vanished, leaving a sting behind that was soothed by the gentle twist of Clint’s fingers inside of him. 

“That was three fingers. You still want me to shove my dick in there?”

He sniffed a little, lip sticking out, as he opened his arms to Clint. “Kiss it better?”

“I’ll rim you when your ass isn’t covered in disgusting tasting lube. Who stocked the lube in this place? It sucks. Tony has the good stuff at the Tower.”

Pietro wondered if he could smother Clint with a pillow, after sex of course. He yanked Clint’s head down for a kiss, wondering if he could talk the archer into growing his hair out, as Clint sucked on his lower lip. 

The fingers inside of him began to move, thrusting in and out in steady pumps, Clint teasing at the bundle of nerves inside of him, but never quite hitting it like he had the first time. Pietro panted into his mouth, his kiss too sloppy and wet, but the blonde only squeezed his hip, returning it with just as much enthusiasm. 

The third finger was added without any drama, except Clint’s yip of pain as Pietro bit down on his lip in retaliation for the earlier pain. 

It was only then that Clint broke the kiss, leaving Pietro to marvel at the sensation of how full he felt on only three of his lover’s fingers. How good would it be when Clint was inside of him? Clint hadn’t even touched his cock since the first finger, yet it was throbbing against his belly. 

Clint was sucking marks onto his collarbone, the hand not inside the Sokovian reaching for the end table, before realizing it was impossible with the way Pietro was wrapped around him. 

“Baby I gotta take my fingers out, don’t pout, need to grab a condom.”

The speedster whimpered at the sudden emptiness as Clint eased his fingers out, “Why condom? I am virgin, and you are clean, right?” Pietro watched Clint roll out of the bed, rummaging through the end table drawers.

“I’m clean.” Clint made a triumphant noise, returning to the bed with the foil wrapped little packet, letting it drop on Pietro’s chest while twisting around to find the bottle of discarded lube. “But we are practicing safe sex, because your knowledge is....” 

“Ooops.” Pietro whispered, looking at the shredded remains of the condom as he spit bits of latex out of his mouth. 

“Rule number one, don’t open condoms with your teeth, because they can tear. How did you even manage to rip it into that many pieces?”

“I do not know. New one? Pietro asked, as Clint flopped on the bed beside him. Pietro leaned over to lick the archer’s shoulder to rid himself of the taste. 

“That was the only one I had, kid. No one told me you were going to pounce on me tonight, or else I would have stocked up.” 

Pietro whimpered, climbing on top of Clint. “No sex?”

The archer’s hand came up to toy with his hair, stroking gently. “We can. We’re both clean, last I checked you couldn’t get pregnant, and you're going to be the one with cum dripping out of your ass.”

The younger man considered that, before licking his lips. “That sound good.”

“Barebacking. Of course you’d like it.” Clint muttered, but he flipped them so Pietro was beneath him once more, fingers reaching for the lube. 

“If it hurts, I bite you.” Pietro informed him, spreading his legs so Clint could settle between them, watching the archer hiss as he slicked himself up. 

“If you bite me, I’m biting back.” Clint growled right back. 

Pietro felt Clint’s cock at his entrance, and he let himself relax. This was Clint. He trusted Clint with his life, more importantly he trusted Clint with Wanda’s life. Trusting him to be gentle was nothing compared to that. 

“I love you.” Clint whispered, kissing him one more time. 

“Love you, old man. Now do something!” Pietro pushed back himself, gasping at the pain of being breached, but Clint was there, pressing kisses to his shoulders distracting Pietro from the slight pain, right up until sharp teeth were sunk into his forearm by a smug little bastard.

“Fucking brat!” Clint snarled, as the Speedster smirked around the mouthful of Barton he had, his eyes clear of pain, so Clint slowly eased himself inside until he was sheathed entirely in his lover.

“Love you.” He whispered, only to see Pietro roll his eyes, legs wrapping around Clint’s hips. 

“Yes, yes, said that. I love you too. Now move!” 

“Impatient little bastard.”

“I am Quicksilver.” Pietro pointed out, groaning as Clint slowly withdrew before thrusting back in. “Still slow.” He complained, the smile wiped from his face when Clint shifted to find his prostate,  Clint kissing the tip of his nose as he slowly rolled his hips, not rushing anything, though careful to keep teasing the sweet spot, knowing if he didn’t, Pietro would throw a fit. 

“God you feel so good baby, so tight around me. Love you so much.” Clint murmured into his collarbone, smiling when he felt Pietro’s arch more into him. 

“Я люблю тебя, мой лучник.”  I love you, my archer.  The speedster whimpered, crying out as Clint began to speed up, striking his prostate with each thrust, one hand holding himself up, the other finding Pietro’s cock. 

“English baby.” Clint’s tone was teasing as Pietro pulled him down for an rough kiss, their teeth clinking together, when Pietro tried to talk around Clint’s lips. 

“Быстрее, старик.”  Faster, old man!”  

Clint stopped, panting into his face, his hips stilling. “That didn’t sound like English to me...Owww.” Clint wrinkled his nose, trying to peer down to where Pietro had flicked it. Something glinted in his eyes, and Pietro found his hands being pinned over his head, thin wrists being held down by one of Clint’s strong hands.

For half a second his breath didn’t want to come, but Clint was starting to move again, his hold light, doing nothing to restrain, just the heavy weight of one hand, keeping him still. Pietro forced a slow breath, reminding himself that this was Clint. His muscles relaxed, mewling softly as he let himself just enjoy his lover moving inside of him, the way that Clint’s toned stomach brushed his cock, the friction so perfect, yet not enough. The way Clint’s lips fit against his when the archer kissed him. 

“God you are so perfect.” Clint’s thrusts were losing their rhythm, hips stuttering, as Pietro felt lightning crawling up his spine, twisting in his belly, as each thrust struck his prostate with perfect accuracy.  His body buzzed with the need to move, to do something, so he shoved himself back on Clint, doing all he could to make the man go deeper, soft pleas leaving his lips in a strange mix of English and Russian 

Pietro’s whined, tossing his head to side to side, as heat rose inside of him, whimpering for Clint as he tried to find some friction, but Clint’s stomach wasn’t enough. But his archer released his hands, finding his cock. 

“Приходите на меня ребенка.” Clint breathed in his ear, stroking his cock, nailing his prostate, and Pietro felt the tidal wave inside him release, spilling himself over Clint’s hand and his own belly as he screamed the archer’s name. 

Clint echoed his cry, stilling inside of him, and Pietro could feel heat flooding his insides as the archer collapsed on top of him in a tangle of limbs. 

Minutes passed when the only movements were their heaving chests, and Clint nosing at Pietro’s neck. Unsurprisingly it was Pietro who found his voice first. 

“Did you tell me to come in Russian?” 

“You really thought I’d been best friends with Nat for years and I didn’t know Russian?” Clint groaned, gently pulling out and rolling to the side. Pietro’s heated skin was chilled for only seconds before Clint was hauling him into his arms, lazily kissing the multitude of hickeys and love bites that marred Pietro’s pale flesh. 

Pietro shrugged, peering down his body at the mess that was his stomach and ass. “Eww.” 

The older man sighed, rolling out of the bed and disappearing into an attached bathroom that Pietro knew he only shared with Natasha, coming back a few moments later with a washcloth. 

“Remember, you’re the one who used the condom for a chew toy.” The older man reminded him, but he didn’t complain as he cleaned the speedster up. Pietro was content to lie in a sprawl of limbs, letting Clint do the work, blinking sleepily, body feeling heavy and relaxed. The copious amounts of energy that usually had him buzzing in his own skin was gone, leaving him warm, pliant, and very much in need of a nap. 

The cloth was warm against his belly, Clint mindful of the love bites that dotted his hips and inner thighs, humming softly to himself as he worked. Pietro’s head lolled on the pillow, blinking slowly as he fought sleep like a petulant child, whining when Clint took too long to return to the bed. His body was cooling now, leaving him chilled and wanting his archer’s body heat. 

Satisfied with his cleanup, Clint tossed the cloth in the direction of the laundry hamper, snorting softly when Pietro moaned at him, only the tips of his fingers twitching as he made the world’s laziest grabby hands. 

But Clint ignored him, going to his dresser and finding a clean pair of dark grey boxers with black spiders to wiggle into, ignoring the amused snort from behind him. It wasn’t like he bought his own clothes, that honor went to Natasha. He balled up a second pair, tossing them over his shoulder with unerring aim, without so much as a glance at Pietro, but the sharp whine let him know he found his target. He debated if he needed a shirt, before deciding to forgo it, knowing from the times he was Pietro’s glorified pillow that the kid was a furnace. 

Turning back around he really wasn’t surprised to find Pietro still naked, Clint’s boxers covering his eyes. Rolling his eyes, the older man snagged the simple black boxers, and managed to pull them up Pietro’s legs. The speedster blinking sleepily at Clint, not even caring when Clint picked him up to move him to one side of the bed so he could change the sheets. 

“You could move, you know.”

“I just devirgined. Too tired. Cuddle.” Pietro yawned, curling himself around Clint’s pillow as he was once more picked up to move to the other side. 

“Stop talking to Tony. You are learning words that aren’t even words instead of actual English.”  Clint complained, throwing the dirty sheets towards the hamper and fetching clean ones. Pietro grunted at him when Clint rolled him over to start making the bed. 

A few more minutes passed, as Clint managed to get the sheets on the bed, before flopping down himself. 

“You are so lucky I love you.” He complained, rolling so he was pressed against Pietro, throwing one leg over the younger man’s legs, an arm wrapping around his waist. 

“Other way. Lucky I love you. Could do so much better. Not a grumpy old man.” Pietro teased, twisting so he was facing the archer, and wiggling more into Clint’s arms. Another sleepy yawn had Clint pulling the blankets around them both, reaching over to turn the light off. 

“Hearing aids.” Pietro mumbled, blindly failing in the dark until he could tap the side of Clint’s head. 

“You....how do you know?” Clint spluttered. “No one knows except Natasha. It’s not in my file. I know. I deleted that detail.”

“We know. Everyone on the team. No, Natasha did not tell. We are family, yes? You should not need to hide it from us.” Pietro released a little cat yawn interrupting his speech. “Stupid man.” He grumbled. “I ask Natasha why you hide it. She say you are afraid. That we would think you weak. I do not understand that. I think it makes you strong. Braver.” Pietro yawned again, frowning when he felt wetness on his chest. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Clint sniffed, trying to roll over, but Pietro just followed him, draping himself over Clint’s side so he could reach the lamp and flick it on. Light flooded the room, blinding them both, but Pietro easily settled himself on Clint’s hips. The archer had an arm slung over his face, which Pietro was quick to tug on. 

“Not a weakness. It is what makes your eyes so good, yes? Other senses get stronger when you lack one.”

 

Clint’s grunt wasn’t an answer, so the speedster flopped on his chest, poking at Clint’s face, steady, annoying jabs that soon had Clint lifting his arm so Pietro could see his face. Reaching out to brush away the teardrops that stained his boyfriend’s cheeks, Pietro rested his chin on the older man’s chest. 

“Do not cry. I love you.”

“Not crying. I’m leaking. I’m old kid, we do that.”

“Well you are my stupid old man.” Pietro kissed him. “The others do not care that you are deaf, you are still their sniper. We trust you. I trust you. I trust you with even Wanda. I love you dumbass. Now take out hearing aids so we can sleep. I want breakfast in the bed tomorrow.” Pietro yawned right in Clint’s face, before settling down, not bothering to move from his glorified mattress as he snuggled down. His eyes didn’t close until Clint had removed both hearing aids, setting them on the table, and only then did Pietro relax completely into his arms, effortlessly falling asleep. 

-_________-

Waking up to sweet kisses being pressed to his face wasn’t nearly as pleasant as being woken up by food being slipped between his lips. Pietro munched down on the blueberry, letting the fruit burst between his teeth before peeling his eyes apart. He blinked sleepily up at Clint, who was sitting beside him, a plate piled high with pancakes balanced on his hand. Pietro whined, opening his mouth wide. 

“Please say he wants you to hand feed him, because there are limits Clint. I am not watching your boyfriend give you a blowjob, unless I can film it and post it online.” 

Pietro peered past Clint, unsurprised to see Natasha sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed, neatly cutting her own plate of pancakes into bite sized pieces, as Clint’s dog, Lucky, drooled on her legs. 

Clint ignored her, instead brushing Pietro’s hair from his eyes. “How do you feel baby?”

The speedster frowned, mentally cataloguing each part of his body. His rear was sore, and he could feel the slight ache in each of the many bite marks that littered his body, but it was nothing compared to the pain he was used to. 

“Fine. Food now?”

Clint hummed softly, one hand running down Pietro’s chest. “I feel like some creepy Italian grandmother saying this, but you are too skinny. Eat.”

“I’m going to vomit.” Natasha muttered, pushing Lucky off of her legs with one sock clad foot. The yellow Labrador blinked his one good eye at her, before whining and looking to Pietro who was leaning against Clint’s side, shoveling blueberry pancakes into his mouth. He growled at the dog from around a mouthful of syrupy goodness, whining sharply when Clint flicked his ear.

“Hey, no growling at my dog. Poor guy already had to sleep in Natasha’s room last night, and she tries to melt herself. We’re lucky he didn’t bake.” Clint cooed at his drooling mutt, offering him a bite of his pancakes. 

“My room is the perfect temperature.”

“I think I’ve seen camels crossing your room in their search for the Sahara.” Clint shot back, absently carding his fingers through Pietro’s hair as he used the other hand to eat. The speedster snuggled in closer, setting his already empty plate on the end table so he could burrow back under the blankets. 

He shoved at Natasha with his feet, yawning loudly, “Leave. I need more sleep snuggles.”

Clint chuckled softly, “Did I wear you out?”

He nodded against Clint’s thigh, lazily stretching out as Clint resumed petting his hair. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft rumble of Clint’s voice as he bickered with Natasha, Lucky a heavy weight across his legs. He felt calm. Safe. The urge to run not taking over him, but he was still annoyed. 

Poking at the place in his mind that was always attached to his sister, he waited for her own sleepy thoughts to drift over to him. 

“You are disgusting. You are supposed to warn me before you have sex so I can leave your mind.”

“I’m not sorry. Why didn’t you tell me sex was that good? Or is your god not as talented as my archer?”

“We are not comparing Thor to Clint, Pietro. But...was he good?”

“Fantastic. He made me breakfast in bed too.”

“That sounds nice. Can you mention that in front of Thor? Normally he just cuddles with me.”

He hummed mentally, rolling over a touch so he was pressed more into Clint.  “Of course. Though I’m still angry with you.”

“Who scarred who for life last night?” 

“Bucky said you are the reason I’m not going out on missions yet.” 

Her mind twisted, becoming confused.  “No. I asked him before the mission, and he said to ask Clint. That he pulled you off active duty. 

Three long seconds passed before Pietro’s bubbling anger had Wanda trying to sooth him, wrapping her mind around him, trying to push away the red haze.  “I’m going to kill him.”

“No you won’t. You just discovered sex. You need him to have more. “ She reasoned, but Pietro tugged away from her mind. 

Clint looked down when he felt Pietro’s nails digging painfully into his thigh, far too close to his dick for comfort. “Aww no. Bad twin telepathy.” He whimpered when he met enraged electric blue eyes. 

“Try not to kill him. I don’t feel like explaining to Steve why I slit your throat.” Natasha kissed Pietro’s cheek, before darting out of the room. 

Clint gulped, scooting back. “I know what you are going to say, and I want it noted that I was trying to protect you, and that I love you.”

“You have not let me on missions? Missions my sister could have been killed on? Or you? Why Clint? Do you not think I...” He growled when Clint’s hand covered his mouth. 

“I did it because you are a reckless little shit.” 

Pietro pushed the hand away. “ I am not.”

“Kid, you through yourself between me and a machine gun. You used yourself for a human shield. Why didn’t you just pick the kid and me up? Or tackle us? Or something?”

“I might not have been fast enough to move you. I knew I was faster than the bullets, but not if I had others.” Pietro mumbled. “I...liked you. Even then. I could not watch you die. I thought...I heal fast yes? You do not. Better I got shot than you. 

Clint kissed his forehead. “And that’s why I don’t want you out there Pietro. You watch out for Wanda and me, but never yourself. You think just because you heal fast, that you can be an idiot. But you can die Pietro. It’s pure fucking luck that you survived in the first place. Eight bullets. And only one punctured something vital.” Clint shook his head, crushing the younger man to his chest. “If one of those bullets had found your heart. If Doctor Lind hadn’t been on the Helicarrier. If I hadn’t been lying next to you on the liferaft. If I hadn’t checked your fucking pulse after Steve said you were dead.” 

  
  


Pietro shuddered. He might have been unconscious for it, but he knew what had happened. Clint had taken up vigil beside his body, arm lying across what was supposed to be his corpse, when he had felt the slow, almost undetectable beat of Pietro’s heart. It had been a miracle that Dr. Sylvia Lind, a Finnish doctor working in Washington D.C as a trauma surgeon in the ICU of George Washington University Hospital, had been persuaded/kidnapped by the Winter Solider to be on the helicarrier in case Steve was injured. The woman had tended to Pietro, pulling him back from the brink of death, saving his life, and causing Tony to hire her as his personal doctor and also the private doctor of the Avengers. Last Pietro heard, Dr. Lind was still arguing that her talents were wasted on them. Apparently she had the joy of stitching Steve back together after his little run in with a memoryless Bucky on the helicarriers and his swim in the Potomac river. Her stance was that she’d fix them once, but after that it was only the copious amounts of imported coffee that Tony bribed her with that kept her working for them. Except Thor. She just adored him. Probably because he had yet to require anything more than a few stitches, not life saving surgery, like the rest of them. 

 

“Do you know how I feel? Being stuck here? Watching the news, not knowing if the two people I love will die? Knowing that I am safe, but you are fighting? That my little sister is fighting, while I sit on my ass? I can not do that.”

“I can’t see you in danger Pietro. It kills me knowing Natasha is out there, and if anyone in the team can take care of themselves, it’s Nat. But you...I thought you died Pietro.”

“If I had not, you would have.” Pietro sighed, scratching Lucky behind the ears. “I can not sit home Clint. I promise, I shall be careful.”

The archer was silent for several long minutes, as Pietro started toying with the purple collar around Lucky’s neck. Finally he sighed, a deep weary sound. 

“Fine. But you’re going to get a uniform that’s bullet proof, and a knife. And you’re going to be sticking close to your sister. And I swear to god kid, if you do anything stupid, I’m pulling a Bucky.”

Pietro snorted, remembering Bucky’s firm stance that if Steve was being a reckless dumbass, he could throw the super solider over his shoulder and physically carry him out of a battle. No one had believed it until they’d witnessed their leader being slung over the mental shoulder and dragged away from a fight after he’d decided that throwing his metal shield at a man who used magnets was a brilliant battle strategy.  

“Deal.” Temper cooled, Pietro climbed into Clint’s lap. “You make it up to me? Upsetting me. I deserve a reward for forgiving.”

Clint hummed kissing one of the many love bites. “Round two in the shower?”

Pietro’s smirk was answer enough, “Race me old man!” He called, darting off of Clint’s lap as the archer scrambled after him. Not before he stuck out his foot, laughing as Clint landed on his face. 

“You didn’t see that coming?” He shouted over his shoulder. 

“I will put an arrow in you kid!”

  
  


The End   



End file.
